


longing floats around you

by fayery



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Post-Canon, background hinokamilla (it’s their wedding), formal wear, guests at the royal wedding, revelations timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayery/pseuds/fayery
Summary: Kagero is on guard duty at the royal wedding, and Orochi doesn’t want to dance alone.
Relationships: Kagero/Orochi (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17
Collections: Kagerochi Day 2020





	longing floats around you

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Kagerochi Day!!! This was mainly inspired by the prompt “formal wear,” though there are references to other prompts, too. Thanks to the event runners for putting this together.
> 
> Title is from a Sappho fragment as translated by Anne Carson, included at the end of the work.

Preparations for the first of the royal wedding ceremonies began early this morning in Castle Krakenburg. Hours later, after vows were exchanged and toasts were made in the castle, the crier crossed the drawbridge into the square to announce that the unification between kingdoms was official, and festivities finally erupted in the streets. 

Kagero is not disappointed to be assigned to guard duty outside. In fact, she’d volunteered for it, eager for some fresh air after spending all morning and afternoon among stuffy Nohrian elite. It doesn’t worry her to be separated from Lord Ryoma— with all twelve of the continent’s royals in attendance, security is the tightest it’s ever been in Kagero’s lifetime, and she’s content to cover this particular blind spot.

She sits alone, perched on an unknown shopkeeper’s empty, shadowed balcony to watch the comings and goings of the crowd. Even now, long past sunset, the festivities show no signs of slowing down. The town center is full with people of all ages: peddlers hawking handmade wedding favors and treats that Kagero doesn’t recognize, live musicians playing the same annoyingly small selection of jaunty tunes, and of course the joyous revelers packed shoulder-to-shoulder inbetween.

There’s been no sign of trouble all day, save the occasional pickpocket or heckler. It seems Nohr was just as eager for a celebration as her homeland.

Just as she’s almost begun to let her guard down, she hears a faint patter of footsteps behind her. She turns on her heels and readies to draw her blade, expecting to face off with an assassin—

“Finally! Here you are.”

She lowers her weapon.

Orochi stands before her in a furisode of rich lavender silk. The deep purple tassels of the obi lay stark against the delicate pattern of its brocade, and embroidered wisteria cascades playfully down the lower half of the kimono, dragging Kagero’s eyes down her body along with it.

Kagero hasn’t seen her dressed like this since they were barely out of their teens, at Orochi’s coming of age, and it takes her off-guard. She works her jaw for a moment, trying to form some semblance of a greeting, but despite her best efforts she finds herself struck silent. Orochi returns her stare with a coy smile and a wave. 

The moonlight becomes her, catching the metallic threading of the design and (as Kagero eventually notices, once she glances up again) the pale gleam of her hair styled high off the elegant slope of her neck. She’s in her element, radiant and poised. It makes Kagero self-conscious, suddenly hyperaware of her own wrinkled clothing and unbrushed hair.

After a beat, she turns around, tearing her eyes away before she can say anything she might regret. “Why did you come?” she finally manages, terser than she had hoped or intended.

Her tone doesn’t faze Orochi, who easily sidles up next to her. “Come on,” she teases, “not even a hello?”

The smile still audible in her voice softens Kagero, relaxes the set of her shoulders, although her hand still doesn’t leave the hilt of her blade. “Hello, Orochi. Did Corrin dismiss you?”

She _is_ glad to see her; glad in a way that she’s not sure how to express. She hopes Orochi can sense it, perhaps in the same way that she senses plentiful harvests and unexpected storms, pregnancies and early deaths. 

“They did. Not like there was much work to be done in there, anyway.” The diviner joins her in looking out over the revelry below, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the railing. They watch a gaggle of children barrel through the street playing tag, slipping on the cobblestones. “You have a nice view up here.”

Kagero is hesitant to describe Windmire as beautiful— the architecture is drab and ungainly, all painted brick and wrought iron. The somber color scheme reminds her of her own paintings, sure, but with none of the freedom or elegance of watercolor. Even so, the capital’s craftspeople clearly pulled out all the stops for this celebration. It’s impossible not to admire the lanterns, banners, tapestries, and floral arrangements lining the streets. The vantage point of the balcony provides them a broad survey of it all.

She allows herself another brief sideways glance at Orochi, her profile illuminated in the glow of the city. “Surely it’s no better than the actual party.”

“It’s not a party without you,” she says, provoking a short, surprised laugh.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I mean it.” She bumps her shoulder against Kagero’s. “Why would I want to hang around if my best friend isn’t even there?” 

To hear Orochi call her her best friend makes the breath catch in her throat, every time. But Kagero doesn’t miss a beat, keeping her eyes trained on the crowd below. “So you’re not planning to find a Nohrian to take home and marry?”

It’s Orochi’s turn to laugh now, a peal of giggles half-hidden behind a sleeve. Kagero can’t help but look again, and this time she doesn’t turn away, instead angling her body toward her and allowing the railing to support her weight. Orochi shakes her head: “Of course not. I have much more discerning taste than _that.”_

Kagero pointedly chooses to end that line of discussion as soon as she started it. “How did you find me?”

“A little green bird,” she says with a wink. Kagero hums knowingly. (Of course it was the younger brother. Saizo would never betray a fellow ninja’s location.) She then nudges Kagero’s sandaled foot with her own. “Actually, I did come up here for a reason.”

Anxiety begins to constrict Kagero’s chest as soon as the words leave Orochi’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing!” She reaches out a hand, pressing it lightly over Kagero’s at the hilt of her blade. “Relax.” 

Then she pries Kagero’s hand away, finger by finger, to take it between her own. Kagero is no stranger to Orochi’s gentle touch, having been on the receiving end of countless palm readings. But this gesture is slow, deliberate, and Orochi looks vulnerable— almost nervous— as Kagero studies her face. 

“The Nohrians are all dancing with each other,” she begins, focused on tracing the peaks and valleys of Kagero’s knuckles with her thumb. “Some of them cheek to cheek, stepping on each other’s toes. They’re all drunk, of course, it’s really quite funny. But Princess Camilla got up and pulled Lady Hinoka out in the middle of the dance floor, then Lady Sakura and little Elise followed, and they looked like they were having so much _fun...”_

She describes the scene to Kagero (with a melodramatic, wistful flair): The boys, too prideful to leave their seats to join, had raised their glasses to their sisters and looked on from the royal table. Naturally, Hinoka and Camilla were the center of attention, both of them radiant in their wedding whites. Camilla, the taller of the two by far, had dipped her wife for a dramatic flourish at the end of their impromptu display. It makes Kagero want to smile to think of it: the unfettered joy the royals must be feeling, hard-earned after years of tension and bloodshed. 

It’s the same joy Orochi deserves to experience, too. Inside, of course, among the music and finger-foods. Not cramped on a balcony with a humorless, underdressed bodyguard.

“So you got jealous,” Kagero finishes for her, deadpan. She can’t blame her, nor is she surprised. Orochi has always been a romantic.

She scoffs, but also squeezes Kagero’s hand. “I got _lonely,_ thank you very much. So I came to find you.”

 _That_ part is surprising: that her first instinct was to look for her, not to find a new dance partner there in the castle waiting to be spellbound by a Hoshidan. Orochi has always been a social butterfly, yet over all these years continues to gravitate toward Kagero. She’s grateful, yet has never fully understood it, and Orochi has never given her a straight answer as to why. 

Kagero’s face stays carefully neutral, even as her pulse quickens. She wonders if Orochi can feel it through the veins of her palm. “For a dance?”

“Why, I thought you’d never ask.” Orochi’s face brightens in a cheeky grin and she tugs at Kagero’s hand, making her stumble closer. Kagero opens her mouth to stutter in protest, but finds herself cut off by another fit of giggles. “No, don’t be silly. I know you’d rather cut off your own feet than do something like _dance_ while you’re on duty.” A pause, then: “Truthfully, I just wanted your company.”

The last sentence grips at Kagero’s heart and twists tight. Nothing about Orochi’s tone suggests that she’s in any way disappointed, or that she wants to make Kagero feel guilty; it conveys the opposite, in fact, with the fond, soft smile that’s hardly left her face since she walked out onto the balcony. 

But Orochi is barely a step away from her now, almost in her arms already, and instinctively Kagero knows she’d be a fool to let her think that were true.

“No, I— I would. With you.” 

The words escape her unfiltered, and the awed, wide-eyed look on Orochi’s face churns her stomach with immediate regret. 

Weakly: “You would?”

She searches for something, anything to say to make the moment pass faster, and lands on “If you wanted,” which (judging by Orochi’s sharp intake of breath) accomplishes the opposite of what she hoped. 

Orochi is lacing her fingers through Kagero’s now and Kagero can hardly look at her, feeling her cheeks grow white-hot, unable to shrink away from Orochi’s searching gaze. For once in her life, she’s said too much instead of not enough.

“Kagero,” she presses, although Kagero still does not look. Then, inexplicably, she feels Orochi lift one of her hands and bring it to her lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. 

Kagero’s mind goes blank, the sounds of the festivities below stifled by white noise, the rush of her own blood in her ears.

“My dear,” Orochi says warmly, as all the fear begins to dissipate from Kagero’s body, “I would love nothing more.”

Orochi closes the rest of the short distance between them, slipping her other hand over Kagero’s shoulder to anchor them together. The thought crosses Kagero’s mind, then, that perhaps Orochi had too much to drink at the party herself, that the unfamiliar Nohrian spirits might be affecting her faculties. Why else would she accept Kagero’s declaration so readily? But there’s no smell of liquor on her, just her trademark faint echo of sage. It lingers in her hair, soft against Kagero’s cheek as they fall in step. 

Her eyes flutter to a close as she takes it in, this closeness. Her other hand finds its place on the small of Orochi’s back, against the smooth fabric of her obi, and a tiny thrill shivers through her at the intimacy of it. How right it feels to hold Orochi tight against her, without the panicked urge to immediately let go.

Distantly, she hears what might be fireworks, or perhaps a mage firing off some ornamental spells for delighted onlookers. None of it really registers, her senses eclipsed by Orochi’s softness and the gentle easy rhythm of their swaying together. She swallows thickly, suddenly feeling that it’s very important to tell her now, in case Orochi never gives her another chance: “You look beautiful.”

Orochi clasps Kagero’s hand even tighter and angles her head toward hers. “So do you,” she whispers sweetly against Kagero’s cheek.

Kagero opens her mouth to reply _What do you mean, this is what I always wear,_ but before she can form the words, she realizes. Orochi pulls her head back for just a moment to take in Kagero’s flushed, dumbstruck expression, and another grin spreads wide across her face, at once both bashful and delighted. 

She lets go of her hand and slides both arms over Kagero’s shoulders to drape around her neck, leaving Kagero no choice but to drop her hands to Orochi’s waist. Standing on the balls of her feet to reach Kagero’s height, Orochi’s face is mere inches from hers, and Kagero can’t look away.

“Promise me this won’t be the last time,” Orochi murmurs, as if she’d read Kagero’s thoughts a moment ago. 

A warm feeling of peace begins to settle over her, knowing that the same question is on Orochi’s mind. “Look into the future,” she says lowly, tongue-in-cheek. ”Tell me if it is or isn’t.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” She laughs again as she pulls her down for a kiss, and Kagero relishes the feeling of her smile against her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> _[...] longing  
>  floats around you,_
> 
> _you beauty. For her dress when you saw it  
>  stirred you. And I rejoice.  
> In fact she herself once blamed me  
> Kyprogeneia_
> 
> _because I prayed  
>  this word:  
> I want_


End file.
